What're Heroes For?
by iwishforapinkpony
Summary: Quick little fluffy AmeriCan drabble. Canada comes home one day, rather depressed, and in need of a hero. And who else is better for the job than Alfred F. Jones! Brotherly love, human names, one curse word. :D


_Just some fluffy brotherly love, and then I'm going back to reading my usual lemony USUK…_

_Be warned! Possible cavity inducing corny fluffyness! Like those candy corns that you get on Hallowe'en that are so frickin' sweet but everyone hordes them like Reeses Pieces. Oh, and America makes a mild exclamation of displeasure with a profanity. (I just felt like using a fancy way of saying he curses :3)_

* * *

Snow was falling as Matthew Williams trudged home, but he barely noticed. The poor boy was so deep in thought that the fact that he walked through a door didn't register. The smell of nearly burnt burgers didn't reach him, or the friendly, "Hey, Matthew!" that rang from the kitchen. He stumbled up the stairs, past Alfred's room and the bathroom before reaching a familiar door tucked into the end of the hallway.

* * *

Alfred F. Jones stood in the kitchen, whistling 'Yankee Doodle' to himself, very loudly and extremely off key. His trusty-dusty 'Kiss the Hero' apron (the 'Cook' had been scratched out and 'Hero' had been written in thick black Sharpie) was tied around his waist and had grease splatters across the front. He had decided to try to cook hamburgers for dinner. How hard could it be?

In the midst of his Yankee Doodle-ing and burger flipping, he heard the door open and the winter chill crept in around his feet.

"Hey, Matthew!" he called cheerfully.

No response.

Alfred stuck his head out of he kitchen to see a shock of blond hair moving up the stairs, almost numbly.

Matthew had left the door open behind him, ushering in the cold and snow.

Now, Alfred knew he wasn't the brightest when it came to reading situations, but he could see that his brother was in need of a hero, and he knew just the person for the job.

* * *

Canada's room was dark. It suited his mood, he thought. He was sat on his bed, hugging Kumajirou to him.

It had happened again. Cuba had attacked poor Canada out of nowhere, mistaking the blonde for his brother. Things were settled and Cuba apologized, buying Canada his favorite maple ice cream to make up for it.

This was happening more and more frequently, and though amends were made and apologies were said, Canada was getting sick of it.

But it didn't stop there, oh no, not by a long shot.

England, France, China, and a number of other countries had been asking him for help lately. He was happy they were recognizing him, at least until he asked why they wanted his help.

"Because America refuses to help."

Every single time.

It was always America!

"Nobody ever wants me for _me_," he murmured into Kumajirou's fur, "I should just give up being a nation and go back to being unnoticed…"

"What are you talking about, Mattie?"

Canada's head snapped up and took in the sight of his brother, Nantucket curl bobbing, Kiss the Hero apron, and spatula still in hand, looking rather…concerned.

"N-nothing," Matthew spluttered, looking down at his feet.

Alfred frowned and walked over to his little brother.

Matthew felt Alfred sit down next to him and heard the worn bedsprings groan in protest. He shied away from his brother's piercing gaze.

"Come on, Mattie," Alfred urged, softer this time, putting a hand on the smaller blonde's shoulder "You can talk to me."

Canada broke down, tears running down the poor boy's cheeks.

"Nobody ever wants me," he sobbed, "I'm just a replacement for you! No one would notice me if I wasn't related to you. No one really cares."

"That's not true!" Alfred argued, "Francis cares about you! He raised you, after all."

"He only paid attention to me after you chose England over him," Matthew whimpered.

Alfred was silent for a moment.

"What about Cuba?" he tried again, "You and Cuba always have ice cream together."

"To make up for the fact that he attacks me, thinking I'm you."

Alfred though hard, but his prolonged silence didn't help Matthew any. The boy started sobbing again, burying his face into his bear.

"I love you," Alfred said quietly.

"Wh-what?" Matthew sniffed, looking up.

"I love you," Alfred repeated, wrapping his arms around the poor little Canadian.

"Really?" his brother asked, violet eyes shining with tears.

"Really really," Alfred smiled, squeezing Matthew.

Matthew dropped Kumajirou to throw his arms around his older brother and started crying into Alfred's ridiculous apron.

"Hey now," Alfred soothed, pulling Matthew into his lap and stroking his hair, "Don't cry, Mattie, don't cry."

Alfred and Matthew sat there, Alfred holding his sad little brother, rocking him back and forth until Matthew calmed down.

"Thank you, Alfred," Matthew murmured, sniffling a little and wiping his eyes.

Alfred grinned- a big goofy grin.

"What're heroes for?"

Matthew couldn't help but smile back up at his idiot of an older brother.

That is, until the fire alarm went off.

"Shit!" America cursed, springing to his feet, "The hamburgers!"

Matthew laughed as his brother frantically tried to salvage his precious burgers, deciding to himself that maybe this life wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

_Corny ending is corn :D I do hope you enjoyed my fail attempt at fluff. Now, back to those lemons... *starts humming*_


End file.
